


Fated Fortunes

by xDx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDx/pseuds/xDx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thinks fortune cookies should be his life coach. Derek thinks Stiles is obnoxiously adorkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fated Fortunes

Stiles draped himself along the back of Derek’s couch, casually throwing his feet up onto the coffee table before him. With a scowl, the Omega brushed his feet down before plopping onto the couch beside him.

“Thanks for bringing take-out,” Derek said, his glare losing some of its edge.

“No worries,” Stiles replied with a shrug, “The best Chinese in town just happens to be between your house and mine. Also, I suspect that you’d just wither away and die in this miserable shit-hole if I didn’t feed you every now and again.” He grinned brightly at the ‘wolf.

Derek bit back a response, rolling his eyes instead and leaning forward to sort through the (excessive, seriously--even with werewolf metabolism this was a ton of food) food containers. He passed the General Tso’s to Stiles and nabbed himself some almond chicken with fried rice, irresponsibly greasy and delicious.

For close to two months now, Stiles had been dropping by the loft. Usually he brought food--a pizza, some Chinese take-out, and one memorable occasion when he had Indian that left them both with tears and snot dripping down their faces from the spiciness. Then they spent a while watching sci-fi and fantasy TV shows. By now, Derek was a huge fan of Game of Thrones, and Stiles had been acceptably educated on Star Trek: The Original Series.

Derek thought it was probably a matter of convenience. Since the incident with the nogitsune, and the death of Allison Argent, what was left of the group had disbanded and taken to grieving in their own ways. From what he heard, Scott was working a lot more with Dr. Deaton. Isaac had fucked off with Chris Argent (and didn’t that hurt, to hear not from his former Beta but from the teenager currently occupying his couch).

And Stiles had started showing up here. Every now and then, they approached a difficult subject--Stiles let slip that he was having nightmares, Derek let slip that his daymares were increasingly more vivid, they both commiserated on only sleeping a few hours a night--but mostly it was just this, just them, and take-out, and the endless, distracting background noise of the TV.

Tonight, Derek could tell, Stiles was a little off. His fingers were tapping incessantly against his pant leg, his knee jumping up and down quickly in an anxious fidget. They don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about things, not really, so Derek decided to ignore it. If the younger man wanted to discuss it, he wasn’t shy. Stiles would bring it up in his own time.

Derek’s almond chicken was amazing. He could almost taste all the MSG entering his body, but it was so, so worth it. He’d just double up on his workout routine tomorrow, because he was going to eat at least six of those crab rangoon, too. With a happy sigh, he shoved one of the deep-fried morsels into his mouth. Beside him, Stiles skipped ahead to his favorite part of the meal.

The plastic wrapper scraped annoyingly as he fussed with it, finally ripping it open on one side to plop the fortune cookie onto his open palm. Then carefully, he broke it in half, making sure not to look at the message printed on the paper inside. He shoved one half of the cookie in his mouth, chewing loudly, and then the other. He grinned at Derek when it was accomplished, before theatrically revealing the message to himself.

Stiles choked on his fortune cookie, coughing slightly to clear his airway, and thumping himself on the chest.

“Jesus!” Derek cried, reaching over to pass Stiles his glass of Coke quickly. “What the hell?”

“Um,” Stiles replied, rubbing away at where his eyes had started watering. “Nothing?” Derek blinked at him in absolute confusion.

“It’s just, you know how I feel about fortune cookies,” Stiles replied, glancing away from Derek’s piercing stare. “Kinda like, they sometimes are really accurate? And they’re trying to give you legitimate advice or life tips or something.”

“Yeah, I know that it’s complete nonsense,” Derek huffed. “Remember that time I got one that said, ‘You will succeed at your job,’ and you laughed until you turned blue?” Stiles barked out a laugh, and nodded along.

“Fine, if you can’t take them as the whispers of the divine or what have you, then let’s play the fortune cookie game! Open yours up!” Stiles turned towards Derek, tucking his legs as he scrunched up against the armrest. The ‘wolf quirked an eyebrow--the game, unlike Stiles’s desire to make fortune cookies into life coaches, was new.

Sighing, Derek slowly (painfully, intentionally slowly) placed his container down and retrieved the other fortune cookie in the bag. He opened it easily, breaking the pastry in two--”DON’T LOOK! You have to eat it before you look or it’s not real!--and munching on the weirdly cardboard-like cookie. After he’d finished chewing, he flipped his message around.

‘A pleasant surprise is in store for you tonight.’

He could feel his face flushing in embarrassment, and Stiles hadn’t even seen it yet! There was no way the teen would let him live this down. He would be making suggestive jokes and speaking in innuendo for weeks (this is a thing that happened, actually, pretty much all the time now that Derek thought about it).

“Okay,” Stiles said, holding his own in front of his face. “So now you have to read it out loud, but then at the end you add ‘in bed’.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively (ridiculously, Derek noted, and not adorably).

“No,” Derek retorted. “Just… no.” He covered his eyes with his palm with a groan.

“Come on!” Stiles cried. “Here, I’ll go first--To affirm is to make firm… in bed.” Again with the suggestive eyebrows. Derek made a noise of pain, hiding his eyes again. “Now you have to do yours, because I did mine.”

“That doesn’t even…” Derek muttered under his breath before giving in. Stiles would irritate him and prod until Derek told him his fortune anyway, might as well get it over with. “A pleasant surprise is in store for you tonight… in bed.”

Stiles stared over at him, dumbfounded. His mouth, lips pouty and soft-looking, hung open slightly. The way the light was reflecting in his eyes made them seem brighter, almost like the Spark inside of him was shining out… Ok, Derek, easy on the romance novels.

“That,” Stiles informed him proudly, “is possibly the most perfect one I have ever heard.” He faked wiping a tear from his eye. “Really, just, beautiful.” They both chuckled softly, Derek crumpling up his little strip of paper and tossing it back onto the coffee table. He picked up his almond chicken container and went back to eating, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the silence that lingered.

“You’re really smart,” Stiles said, out of nowhere. Derek glanced over at him, noticing now that Stiles’s heartbeat had ratcheted up a notch. The younger man was fiddling with another take-out container, swirling some lo mein around his fork tines.

“Thank you?” Derek replied hesitantly. “I got my English and Comparative Literature degree from Columbia.”

“I know!” Stiles groaned. “You have your Master’s and you’re only 23. It’s ridiculous!” The way he said it confused and mostly amused Derek, but he’d come to feel this level of bemusement many times before in the teen’s company. “And, you’re also really selfless--like, you care more about Scott’s safety, or my safety, or even my Dad’s more than your own. And that’s really rare in people.”

Derek tilted his head questioningly, a small frown forming between his generous eyebrows as he studied the teen beside him. Before he could interrupt, Stiles continued--apparently in full steam-roller mode, and unwilling to stop for interruption.

“And, you’re also just really brave.” He gestured widely with his hands here. “Not just putting yourself out there, but mentally--dealing with things, and not completely shutting down. Sure, when you first got to Beacon Hills you were kind of a mess-”

“Hey!”

“But you really changed, after the kanima incident… blew over. You really stepped up, and started working with me--us. And, Derek, you trusted me.” At this, he looked up, gaze boring into Derek’s soulfully. “You trusted me when I needed you to, even though you told me once that you didn’t, and I can never tell you how much that means to me.”

They sat in silence, Stiles nervously chewing on his bottom lip, as Derek tried to process what had been said.

“Thank you, that was…” Derek trailed, uncertain how to finish. It wasn’t every day that Stiles showed up and dropped truth bombs about Derek’s alleged awesomeness; in fact, to be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time someone said such kind, life-affirming-- “Stiles. Did you just fortune cookie me?”

Stiles snorted in laughter. “What? I’m just doing what the fortune cookie said.” Derek hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt. (He was pretty sure that failed.)

“No, wait.” Stiles reached forward and grabbed his wrist loosely. “I meant all that stuff, I did.” The younger man tried to make a joke of it. “Who am I to stand in the way of fate?”

“There’s no such thing as fate,” Derek said quietly, tugging his wrist out of Stiles’s grip.

“There’s no such thing as werewolves,” Stiles replied, his eyes darkening with sadness for a moment. And then a fierce determination settled onto his face. “I do believe in fate, Derek. And I believe in the stupid fortune cookies, too. After you got that one about the job, two days later you and Scott chased that crazy mind-bending werecougar half-way up the seaboard!”

“That’s not a job,” Derek protested.

“Semantics!” Stiles cried, his arms flailing a bit wildly. “Still counts. And I want this one to count.” Stiles stilled, his eyes slowly rising to meet Derek’s through a fan of long lashes. “I want yours to count, too.”

Derek’s breath left him completely. As often as he felt a monster, an abomination--this was the worst thing. He’d wanted Stiles from the day he’d found the two teenagers stomping around the Preserve. At first, he hadn’t taken efforts to conceal it--so wracked with grief, so certain that he would die soon anyway. But then he learned to force it away, tried to distract himself (and look how well that turned out). These two months of take-out and TV had been sweet torture.

Stiles slowly unfurled himself from his corner of the couch, pushing into Derek’s space. He pushed the Omega back to recline, hovering over him without connecting anywhere but at one hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Tell me you don’t want this, too,” Stiles whispered, staring down into Derek’s eyes as he paused for a response.

“You’re seventeen,” Derek said softly, his muscles aching to reach up and feel the younger man above him. He felt himself shaking with the force of holding himself back.

“I want you. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop,” Stiles replied, leaning ever closer. Their mouths were inches away, tantalizingly close--Derek could feel the breath leaving the teen’s body, and it sent tingles down to his toes.

He gave in. Derek pressed himself up into the welcoming warmth of Stiles’s body, meeting his lips in a desperate kiss. Their mouths worked together, their lips caressing and slipping sweetly against one another. Derek nipped lightly at the other man’s lip, earning a gasp. Derek was lost in the sensation, until finally he pulled away to settle his breath.

“You’re seventeen,” Derek restated. “And your father is the Sheriff.”

“He’ll understand,” Stiles replied, pressing forward into another brief kiss. “After everything that happened, he’ll probably just be pleased as punch that I’m not investigating dead bodies or getting attacked by vampires.” His grin was absolutely beautiful.

Derek grinned back helplessly. “If we do this, I can’t… We have to take it slow. I have to be sure.” Not that he wanted it, but that Stiles did--that he didn’t just want Derek because he was attractive, because he was there and paid attention, the Derek wouldn’t ruin him like he had been ruined years before…

“I’m grade-A virgin meat here, buddy,” Stiles replied, his face a picture of faux-seriousness. “We’re already moving faster than I’ve moved in my entire life. Ever.” He smiled crookedly down at the ‘were. Derek felt the reassurance behind the words anyway.

“Now hand me another chicken rangoon,” Derek demanded, settling back against the arm-rest with Stiles draped down his front. Laughing, the teen grabbed for the bag.

“Check it out!” Stiles shouted, retrieving a third fortune cookie from the bag. “They gave us another one.” Derek, temporarily dismissing the rangoon, felt like humoring him.

“What’s it say?”

Stiles ripped open the wrapper and ate the cookie, chewing meticulously. Finally, he read over the message. “I cannot help you, for I am just a cookie. Ugh! Ok, this one was a bust. Best two out of three.” He reached over to plop a rangoon onto Derek’s chest before settling himself down again.

“I don’t know, seems kinda meta of the fortune cookie gods,” Derek teased, biting into his seafood delicacy. Stiles poked him in the ribs as they both dissolved into laughter. They settled again, each amicably eating Chinese, and flipped on the TV.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at [iheartSterek](http://iheartsterek.tumblr.com) if you like!
> 
> Thanks for your time. c:


End file.
